


Neutral Ground (NeganxLayla

by The_mykie_show



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Negan (Walking Dead) Being an Asshole, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Sweet Negan (Walking Dead)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-09-17 23:40:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16984011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_mykie_show/pseuds/The_mykie_show
Summary: In which Layla gets thrown into the Alexandria drunk tank and Negan finds an unlikely friend in his new cellmate.





	1. The Drunk Tank and Pop Tarts

**Author's Note:**

> HI everyone! this is my first publicly published fanfic, and I do not have a beta reader so forgive any errors.   
> I also write on Tumblr (for now) under the-mykie-show, if you would like to be tagged there let me know!   
> I hope you guys enjoy and I always love feedback as any fanfic writer does.

If I would have known there were still laws about public intoxication in the apocalypse I would have never said “what are you gonna do? Throw me in jail?” to Alexandria’s head of security. Because, yes that is exactly what she intended to do. 

“goddamnit” I muttered as I watched Michonne slam and lock the metal door at the top of the stairs I'd just unceremoniously staggered down, officially putting me in time out for my unruly actions.   
I'd almost forgot that I wasn't alone down here until a deep gravelly voice spoke from the dark void in front of me. “please tell me you're not a barfy drunk, I don't want to smell that shit all night.”

“No, luckily for both of us I'm not.” I can just barely make out his silhouette behind the iron bars by the moonlight streaming through the small window of his cell.   
“So, what're you in for?” he asks. 

“I got drunk and started a fight over expired pop tarts.” if anyone wasn't going to judge me for my actions it'd have to be the man who had been locked in the cell since I'd joined the community a year ago. My mind was still clouded with just enough alcohol for me think it was a good idea to ask the prisoner the question I'd been wondering about for a long time. “what about you?”

“You mean you don't know?” he seemed genuinely surprised. The only thing that the Alexandrians had shared about their prisoner was his name was Negan, and he was lucky to even be alive after what he had done, and warned me away from ever going near his cell.   
“No, they don't talk about it. Just told me you were a bad man and deserved to be down here.”   
“I would tell you but this is the longest conversation I've had in a long ass time and I sort of don't want to ruin it yet.” shit, I wasn't expecting the evil prisoner to tug on my drunk heart strings.

“Try me. I don't scare easy, and I've still got some booze left in here.” I raised the bottle of whiskey I still held in the hand I wasn't using to support myself against the cinder block wall. “I'll share if you spill.” 

“You got yourself a fuckin' deal.” Negan slid down to the floor and sat with his back against the bars, I did the same next to him.   
“I had a place of my own, a place with rules, an economy, jobs, I called it the Sanctuary. The whole place ran on the idea that people were a resource, and if everyone did their part we could rebuild civilization.”

“That doesn't sound so bad.” 

“It wasn't, at least I didn't think it was.” he sighed “everyone had a job to do in the Sanctuary, we had a point system, it worked like currency, the harder the job the more points you earned, the better off you were. It worked, kept the peace, kept people alive, but a lot of people still couldn't get by. So I started finding new communities, and I offered them protection from the dead in exchange for half their shit. I'd give them supplies to build fences, soldiers, medical care, whatever I could spare” 

“Seems fair.” I took a swig and passed the bottle through the bars to Negan.

“It was until the communities decided they didn't need us anymore and they stopped providing. You gotta understand...I had my own people to worry about, children, pregnant women, old people, sick people- so I did what I had to do and I killed the leaders of those communities who wouldn't work with us and I made a new deal.” he took a swig from the bottle.

“I wouldn't kill anyone else if they kept providing for the Sanctuary, and as it turned out ruling with an iron fist suited me.   
Before long the Sanctuary grew, I had outposts, less people died, I lived like a king. And then one night Rick and a few of his people snuck into one of my outposts and killed all my people in their sleep all while trying to kill me too. Even burned a few alive.” 

“you're shitting me right? Rick did that?” I almost couldn't believe it. Was he manipulating me? Was this what the Alexandrians warned me about? But the moment I looked into his eyes I knew he was telling the truth. 

“Nope, I'm dead ass serious.” he passed the bottle back to me. 

“So I arranged a little talk between us out in the woods, and I killed two of Rick's guys. It was only supposed to be one person, but Rick's little lackey Daryl decided to throw a punch at me so I killed one more. And that's what started the war.” 

I listened to Negan tell his story in silence, only pausing to pass the bottle between us, by the end I saw Rick in a whole new light, and shame in Negan's eyes. He wasn't proud of what he'd done, he was sorry. Which was more than I could say for most people these days. 

“wow that's really…fucked up, I'm sorry. When do you get parole or whatever?” 

“Never.” 

“Never?” 

“Nope, I'm gonna die in this hole.” Negan didn't even look sad, just decided. Like he'd accepted his fate as a fact he couldn't change. 

“So what about you? What's your story?” 

“Not much of a story really. Born and raised in Roanoke,went to art school at a liberal arts college for the sole purpose of pissing off my parents, worked from home as a graphic designer. I was alone when the world fell, found Alexandria a while after.” I took another drink, and passed the bottle to Negan. 

“What no husband? Boyfriend?” 

“Nope, just me and a fish, and some friends from college who enabled my drinking habit and got me into this mess.” I laughed, and so did Negan. It sounded like he hadn't done that in a while, and seemed surprised that he even remembered how to laugh. 

And it was then I realized that there was something very sexy about Negan when he laughed.


	2. A bottle of whiskey to remember me by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan opens up about Luccile.

“So, you got a fuckin’ name?” Negan asks swishing the last bit of whiskey in the bottom of the bottle, watching it glow amber in the dim light. 

“Layla, it means night, my mom got it from a song I think.” I tell him, watching the whiskey bottle in his hand as well. 

“Where is she now? Your mom?” 

“She died, before the outbreak, cancer was a real bitch like that.” Negan's expression changed suddenly, became somber and hurt. 

“My wife died of cancer too.” he actually looked as if he was fighting back tears “I was such a fucking asshole to her, she deserved so much better then my stupid ass. She would be ashamed if she saw me now.” 

“Or maybe she would know that you tried to do something good, you just made some mistakes along the way.”   
He laughed, but it was a dark and hollow sound. 

“I named it after her.” 

“Named what after her?” 

“My baseball bat, the one I fucking killed people with. She always got me through life before the outbreak, and the bat got me through life after it. So I named it after her, that bat was the only thing that kept her memory alive.”   
Somehow his words didn't sound psychotic to me at all, even though I knew it probably should, it sounded like a lonely, desperate man trying to hang on to the memory of the person he loved more than anything.

“Where is the bat now?” 

“I don't know. They wouldn't tell me for a long time, but Michonne says they left her out in the field where Rick slit my throat.” 

“how long ago was that?” 

“2 years. I think anyway. Time gets warped in here, everything moves so fucking insufferably slow. I have to measure time using the seasons, the weather, I know I'm pretty damn close to right, but it never feels like it, it always feels like I've been down here for so much longer.” 

The more I spoke with Negan the more extreme his punishment seemed. Surely he deserved a chance to redeem himself? A chance to get out of the cell? I wouldn't ever dare to say that to Rick or Michonne though, and certainly not Maggie. 

I'd only ever met Maggie one time, she lead the Hilltop, but she never came to Alexandria like the leaders of other communities did, and her relationship with Rick and Michonne seemed strained and broken. I wondered if it was because of Negan? 

Negan downed the last of the whiskey and stared out of the dark window at the night sky for a moment before he spoke again. 

“I drank all your whiskey.” 

“S'ok, I have more.” 

“Good to hear, maybe you'll start another fucking fight and have to come visit me again.”

“haha very funny. I'm not an alcoholic, I swear.” 

“Sure, definitely.” he smirked “I totally believe that.” 

I reached through the bars and attempted to snatch the bottle out of his hand, which was easier said than done with the cold iron separating us. His expression changed, he seemed shocked that someone had actually willingly put a part of their body inside the cell with him. Negan looked at me like I'd grown a second head for a moment and then realized I was grabbing for the bottle handed it over. 

Our hands touched, but I didn't pull away, instead I let his hand linger on mine. There was that strange expression on his face again, like he was somehow in awe of something as small as touching my hand. 

“Uh, do you mind? It's just been alone since I've been this close to another person…” he said softly.

“No, go for it.”

He sat the whiskey bottle down on the floor and took my hand in both his with a kind of reverence I'd never experienced before, his hands were rough and cold. Slowly he squeezed my hand and ran his fingers over the back of it, and then turned to face me on his knees.   
I let him slip his hand through the bars and run his fingers through my hair,while his other hand gripped mine. And I returned the favor. 

We stayed like that until I started to see streaks of pink in the sky, the sun was rising, my sentence was almost served. 

“They're letting you out soon aren't they?” it was the first time he'd spoken in a while. 

“Yeah.” I replied “I think so.” 

“Thank you for this.” He really must have believed he'd never feel another person's touch again. And I wasn't about to lie and pretend it hadn't been a while for me too. I wasn't lying when I said I didn't mind. 

A loud clang sounded from the top of the stairs then, causing us both to violently jerk apart before we were busted by Michonne. 

“Layla, you're free to go. I hope you've sobered up and thought about what you did.” I stood from the cement floor, choosing to glare at her rather than answer. 

“And I hope your cellmate behaved himself.” she stared pointedly at Negan. 

“Now would I misbehave? I'm hurt you'd even suggest that.” And there was the old, less touch starved Negan back. 

Michonne escorted me into the early morning light, leaving Negan with the whiskey bottle to remember me.


	3. Lucille

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Layla overhears a conversation between Negan and his old enemy Maggie that inspires her to make a dangerous call that forces her to confront her feelings for Negan head-on.

This is crazy, I'm crazy. And it was probably going to cost me. 

But after over hearing Negan and Maggie's conversation, I had to do this. It had been several months since the night I spent in basement with Negan, I hadn't seen him since, until yesterday I walked by the cell after Maggie had mysteriously appeared Alexandria again for the first time in years. 

With my back against the cold stone wall, I listened to Negan cry, and beg to die, to be be with his wife again. 

I couldn't bring Lucille back from the dead, but I could find the next best thing. His bat. 

Negan was suicidal, and nobody deserves to live with that kind of pain. No matter what they'd done. 

My hand tightened around my gun at my hip, bracing for an attack as a corpse staggered towards me, but there was only one, and he was easily dispatched with a knife. Guns were loud and drew attention, and bullets were in short supply, we only used them when we had to.  
That was fine by me, I never liked guns.  
And having been in martial arts since I was 13 I didn't really need them for self defense before the world fell. 

This was definitely the place, just like Negan described it.  
I made my way through the big open field towards a tree with two large pieces of stained glass hanging from it's gnarled branches. 

If anyone knew I was doing this I was sure I was going to be exiled from Alexandria. I also knew leaving the walls was dangerous, and there was no guarantee I'd even find it. I don't even why I wanted to find it. It was a weapon of mass destruction and murder, but it was also the one thing that he loved. 

It took me several hours of searching before I saw the gleam of barbed wire in the sunlight. 

The wood was a little warped, and the barbed wire was rusted in some places but it was definitely Negan's bat. 

I tucked the bag into the large duffle bag I'd brought along, making sure to stop at the mostly looted old convenience store and pick up a few items to justify my trip out here. I found a box of shotgun shells, hard old gummy bears, a half drank and dusty bottle of wine, and a blanket behind the register.  
I wrapped the bat loosely in the blanket hoping if anyone saw it they'd think it was just a rolled up blanket with nothing inside it, and covered it with my other items. 

Alexandria didn't make a habit of searching people when they came home from runs, and they had no reason to suspect me of anything, so it's unlikely that anyone would look into the bag to catch me but still, talking to Aaron at the gate was nerve wracking.  
“Find anything good?” he asks as he pushes the heavy metal gate open.

“Not really, just some shotgun shells, old gummy bears, a blanket, and a bottle wine.” 

“OH really? Well if you're looking to part with the wine I'll gladly take it off your hands” 

“Yeah, I'm sure you would” I laughed, but it was nervous and humorless.  
As soon as I was able to detach myself from the conversation with Aaron I hurried into my house and went to work cleaning up Lucille and hiding the bat. I found a loose floorboard where I could store it out of sight until after the community curfew was in effect. 

Once it was I slipped down the stairs to Negan's cell, Lucille tucked away inside the duffle bag under my arm again. 

“Negan?” I called out softly. 

“Layla? What the fuck are you doing down here?” he looked rough, he needed a shave, and a haircut, and a bath, and he didn't look like he was eating much, he'd lost a lot of weight since I was down here last. 

“I brought you something.” 

“You shouldn't have, Rick and Michonne just might exile you….or worse if they find out you're coming down here on the regular and bringing me shit.” Negan seemed genuinely concerned for me. 

“It's fine, I was sneaky. Nobody caught me. And I think you'll change your mind when you see what I have.” I took the duffle off my shoulder and shoved it through the bars of his cell. 

He took it, looking skeptically between me and the bag before he finally opened it. 

A million and one emotions crossed his face, and his eyes teared up when his hands touched the bat. I didn't understood his relationship to this inanimate object, and I probably never would, but I could understand the look on his face, that said it all. 

“Lucille? Is this really my Lucille?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What did you do? Where was she?” he said holding the bat reverently in his hands. 

“Turns out that Michonne wasn't lying, they did leave her in that field.” 

“And you went and got her.”

I nodded as a loaded silence fell over us. 

Negan extended his hand through the bars, clearly asking for mine. I gave it to him, and he held it tightly in his just looking from me to the bat over and over again. 

“You overheard us when Maggie came down here, didn't you? That's why you did this.” he finally broke the silence. 

I nod. 

It happened so fast, but somehow I ended up with my body pressed flush against the bars, Negan's lips on mine, and the hand that wasn't holding Lucille on my waist. I found myself kissing him back, and my hands raised to tangle in his slightly overgrown hair.  
I wasn't sure how long we kissed, but when we finally pulled away there was a mark on the side of his face where it was pressed against the bars, I would assume that I had one just like it as well. 

“Thank you. So much, I never thought I'd see her again.” I was sure he was about to kiss me again, and I was going to let him, but before he could the guard at the gate sounded an alarm.


	4. Make out sessions and dick jokes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dead around Alexandria begin acting strange, meanwhile Negan and Layla discuss their relationship, religion, and dick jokes.

“What is that?” Negan asked, one hand still wrapped around Lucille, the other holding my hand.   
“The guard at the gate, something's wrong.”   
“Go, help them.” he put Lucille back in the duffle bag and passed it through the bars to me. “Thank you.” he whispered.   
I nod “I'll be back.” I promised.  
And I hurried up the stairs, and back inside. Stashing Lucille and grabbing my gun, before rushing to the gate, where father Gabriel stood on guard.   
Why they let the half blind man who was notorious for leaving shit unlocked be in charge of the gate was beyond me.   
“What is it father G?”   
“Layla, I've asked you not to call me that.” he scowled. “look at this, have you ever seen them do that before?” I leaned over the railing and peered down. There were around 16 of the dead just outside the treeline, and standing still in a weirdly straight line, all staring at the Alexandria fence with blank unmoving expressions on their faces.   
“No. How long have they been there like that?”   
“Since I sounded the alarm.”   
“Why aren't they moaning?” I wondered out loud.   
”Why are they standing like that?” father G replied.   
Rick and Michonne joined us on the platform.   
“Should we put them down?” I asked.   
“No, nobody goes out there tonight.” Rick said.   
“Look at their eyes.” I whispered, all the warmth from the kiss I'd shared with Negan was gone and replaced with cold fear.   
“What about them?” Rick asked.   
“I see.” Michonne said.   
“They look…. Alive.” I whispered, almost as if I was afraid of the corpses hearing me. We all four stood there watching the dead watch us for sometime before each corpse turned one by one and filed into the treeline. 

I went to bed that night with my gun in my hand, chilled to the bone with fear, and spent the whole night staring up at ceiling, waiting for the morning light to come through the window.   
When it finally did I was relieved, but I also felt stupid, surely last night was an overreaction. Those people were dead and thinking anything otherwise was insane. It had to have been a trick of the moonlight.

My theory was all but confirmed when weeks went by with no other run ins with the mysterious dead people outside the gate.   
It became a weekly habit for me to sneak from my house and visit Negan after curfew, sometimes I would bring Lucille, others I would bring a bottle of whatever I could find, sometimes I'd bring food. It wasn't long before Negan and I knew everything about each other. We talked about everything under the sun, shared stories, laughed, drank, everything friends used to do before the world ended.   
It was nice. It was small piece of normalcy both of us could hang onto.   
We never touched again after the kiss, and we didn't talk about it either, but the tension was there, hanging heavy in the air between us, waiting for one of us to make another move.   
If anyone knew of my meetings with Negan they never spoke of them. 

“Father G trying to convert you or what?” I asked, gesturing to the Bible on Negan's table.   
“Something like that.”   
“Is it working?” I asked passing a piece of bread made at the Hilltop through the bars.   
“What do you think?” he asked.   
“I think that organized religion is toxic but it's a little arrogant to go through life believing that you're the most powerful force in the universe.”   
“Well not being arrogant is not among the crimes I'm incarcerated for.”  
“All I'm saying is maybe consider it.” he took a bite of the bread and shook his head.   
“I was never really a religious type. I tired praying and all that shit when Lucille was sick, it didn't do fuck all.”   
“It didn't make you feel better?” I half expected him to make a tasteless dick joke to deflect the seriousness of this conversation.   
“No, and besides that priest is fucking creepy.” well, not a dick joke but deflection nonetheless.   
“He is a little creepy.” we both laugh.   
“You know? I'm glad you came back. I was worried that I scared you off the night you brought me Lucille.” finally we were talking about this.   
“It's all good, you didn't scare me.”   
“It should have scared you Layla, I should scare you. I'm a piece of shit and you should run as far away from my ass as you can.” where was this coming from?   
“I'm not going anywhere, Negan.”   
“I know, and I'm grateful but I'm also afraid for you. What happens when Rick finds out? Or Michonne? Or the creepy priest?”   
“They won't find out Negan. I'm good at sneaking around, but if it'd make you feel better I'll volunteer to take over Gabriel's duties taking care of you. I can't get in trouble for being down here if it's my job.”   
“No, but you could get in trouble for making out with me.” he actually had a good point there.   
“We didn't make out! It was just one little kiss.”  
“Nope, pretty sure there was tongue. I think I would remember considering I haven't done that in 2 years.” I slapped his shoulder through the bars, and we both laughed.


	5. Goodbye to Rick Grimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Layla has to break the news of Rick's death to Negan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is extremely short, but I wanted to dedicate a whole part to Rick's passing.

Rick was dead. 

And as Negan's official caretaker it was my job to inform him. 

I was honestly unsure if he would be upset or happy that his old nemesis and jailer was gone. Negan was an enigma, you never quite knew how he was going to react or what he would say. 

I gathered his sandwich, some homemade potato skins, and a water bottle and put them all on a metal tray and made my way down the stairs to the cell. 

“I gotta say, I enjoy you coming to visit me much more than the creepy priest.” Negan was always happy to see me. 

I sighed and sat his food down. 

“What's wrong?” he knew something was up before I even spoke. 

“It's Rick.” that was all I had to say for him to know. 

“How did it happen?” he asked. 

“He tried to stop a herd, blew himself up with the bridge.” I could see him wrestling with his emotions, trying to figure out what he was feeling. 

“wow… I really don't know what to say.” 

“For once.” I smiled a little for the first time since Rick had died. 

He laughed “yeah, for once.”

“how's Michonne holding up?” 

“Not well, she's really struggling with things, I went by there this morning before I came here, she wouldn't answer the door. Maggie is with her.” 

“Maggie is here?” he seemed genuinely afraid. 

“Yeah, but I think she's over trying to kill you.” 

“Good, because I'd miss our little visits if she did.” his eyes softened as he looked at me. And it was in that moment I realized that it wasn't me bringing him Lucille that had convinced him that he wanted to live, it was just me.


	6. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negan escapes his cell.

Father Gabriel insisted that once a week I take a day from my responsibilities with Negan, he says that nobody deserves to have to deal with Negan 7 days a week, three times a day. I didn't have a problem with it but I went along with it to not raise suspension. I was worried if they thought I liked Negan a little too much I'd never see him again. 

I watched Father G and his loyal bodyguard make their way down to Negan's cell, Gabriel was still trying the meditation thing with him, Negan said it wasn't doing “fuck all” for him but he liked the company and liked to annoy the priest so he didn't complain. 

Not long after they disappeared down into the cell, a group of kids scurried from a house across the street which I knew served as a kind of school and day care to watch them while they're parents were busy…. or sitting on the porch drinking wine. The kids ran into the street and were laughing and whispering among themselves. 

I heard one yell “scaredy cat! Emily's a scaredy cat!” and shove the child towards Negan's cell window. Were they making a game out of going up to his window? As if he was some monstrous animal held in captivity that they could dare each other to mess with?

Nope, that was not gonna fly. 

I stood from my deck chair and marched over to the kids “hey you little brats, anyone ever teach you manners?” I asked. 

They all nod, obviously a little scared of “the drunk lady” as I'd come to be known in the community.   
“Well then, why don't you use those manners and treat people like human beings?” 

“He's in jail, it doesn't matter.” one of the boys argued. 

“It does matter and if your parents won't stop your shitty little asses I will, and I really don't think you want that. Don't ever let me catch you doing this shit again, got it?” they all nod and run away. 

“Nice fucking parenting!” I yell at the adults sitting on the porch watching the whole thing unfold, one flips me off. I briefly considered shoving her wine glass up her ass but decided against it. 

The way these people treated Negan was ridiculous, things were better when Rick was alive, sure he was the one responsible for putting Negan in jail and making him the promise he was never getting out, but he also made sure Negan was treated like a person and not a rabid wild animal. 

I spent the rest of my day off inside, hiding from the bitches across the street and watching a storm roll in over the horizon, eventually blacking out the sky except for the occasional flash of lightning, and the wind picked to violent speeds. 

I drifted off to sleep on the couch to the sounds of rain drops on the tin roof.   
I was awoken sometime later by urgent banging on the French doors, in my disoriented post-nap state I was sure I was hallucinating when I saw Negan standing there, on my back porch, soaked in rain, and looking like a lost puppy. 

The sun had mostly set, there was only a tinge of light on the horizon indicating that I'd slept into the evening. 

I opened the door. 

“Negan? How did you get out?” 

“Gabriel and his lackey left my cell door unlocked, it blew open in the storm.” 

“Get in here before someone sees you!” I dragged him into the living room, shutting and dead bolting the door, and slamming the blinds down over the glass before running to the other side of the room and doing the same. 

Negan watched me, dripping water all over the hardwood floors, with a strange longing in his eyes.   
As soon as I was done, he grabbed me and kissed me hard. 

Pressing me all the way against his body the way he hadn't been able to in the cell, one hand tangled in my hair, and the other squeezed my ass and eventually snaked inside my shirt as we kissed. 

Before long we ended up on the couch, him on top of me, hands everywhere, mouths glued together.   
I pull away for a moment “Negan stop, we need to figure out what's next.” 

“What's next?” he asked breathless. 

“Yeah, like what do you want to do? Do you want to go back to the cell tomorrow, build trust? Do you want to run?” 

“I don't know… I don't want to live the rest of my life in that cell, Layla, I don't think I can.”  
“OK, then we run.” I said matter-of-factly. 

“We? You're coming?”

“Well I'm not letting you go alone. There's nothing here for me anyway.” 

He kissed me again. 

“You should probably get out of these wet clothes, you're going to get sick.” 

He raised his eyebrows “You offering to help me?” 

“Maybe.” I smile, wriggling out from under him and pulling him up. 

“How would you like a shower?” I say pulling off my shirt. 

“OH fuck yes!”


End file.
